Jason: Reloaded
by RK9
Summary: Grissom finds a surprise at a crime scene...a son! How does he react? Read to find out! Chapter 9 uploaded!
1. Default Chapter

Notes: Well, after noticing that a some of you who wanted to review but had already reviewed couldn't review, i removed the fic and replaced it. So you could review. ;)

Disclaimer: We don't own. You don't sue.

More notes: This is a joint fic, so any perceived plotholes and inaccuracies are purely figments of your active imagination. Rhi and RK9 are professionals. (smirks) We dont make mistackes. We rool.

**Chapter 1**

It was amazing, how quickly they grew. One moment you were holding a tiny baby, a miniature human being, with fingers and toes so small it was almost unimaginable to think one day those fingers and toes would belong to a living, breathing, functioning member of society who went out and worked and loved and maybe, someday, had a little miniature human being of their own. Lee Nha sighed to herself, all these thoughts running through her head as she watched her five-year-old son, Jason.

Jason had been born exactly five years ago at the Desert Palm hospital in Las Vegas, shortly after Lee Nha had arrived in America. He'd had ten fingers and ten toes, with brown hair, Chinese features...and beautiful blue eyes that he had inherited from his father.

Who, unfortunately, was out of the picture.

Lee Nha had met Jason's father at a forensics conference held in China six years ago. The conference had been held in the hotel where she had been working as a maid, and when she had been clearing up the mess in the conference room, he had returned for some notes he had forgotten.

They had dated a while, fallen in love...and then he had to leave for Las Vegas, where he had come from. Where Lee Nha had fled China for after her parents rejected her, and the child she had been carrying.

The young woman had arrived in Vegas afraid, unable to find the father of her child, and desperate. She had taken a job as a grocery store clerk, where her affinity for accounts made her popular with her boss, and soon, she was able to buy a place to live, and food to eat, and things to help her care for her soon-to-be-born son.

Eventually, she had given up on finding the father of her child. She knew it would cause complications - for both her, and him. Besides, she had a good life set up here, her old one far behind her now.

Lee Nha held no resentment towards the result of her ill-fated liaison. Jason was her whole life, which was as it should be for any mother. She worked hard to give Jason all the things he needed, and he was a healthy boy; happy, though sometimes when they went to the park, he would watch the families that had fathers and have such a confused look on his face, as if he couldn't understand why he did not have a father as well.

The young woman sighed, and closed the door quietly on her sleeping son. She had work to do. Being a clerk at a nearby grocery store meant that she needed to work hard to support herself and her son, but she was no stranger to hard work. Right now, she could hear the shop accounts calling her name, and she trudged downstairs, flexing her tired muscles.

It was 5am and still dark outside. As Lee Nha sat down at the kitchen table, she glanced out the nearby window at the horizon. The sun was rising slowly, bathing the landscape in the golden light of dawn, made slightly milky and off-color by the smog in the atmosphere. Lee Nha smiled slightly to herself as the new day dawned, and opened one of the account books stacked in front of her. She had two hours until she needed to take Jason to kindergarten, and another half hour after that until work. Her life was made up of routines, the routines of a working mother, but Lee Nha didn't mind. She had carved out her little niche in life and was content to live it. She had Jason, and he was what mattered most to her.

About ten minutes into her accounts, a sharp noise outside made Lee Nha whip her head up and listen intently. It sounded like...someone had stepped on a twig outside. Silence greeted her, however, and she concluded it was either the wind, her imagination, or her neighbors. It might even be Jason...she dismissed that, if it was he'd come bouncing into the living room demanding breakfast.

Turning back to her work, Lee Nha massaged the back of her neck with her hand. A loud crashing noise outside made her get up, walk to the door...

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Jason shot upright in his bed. Three loud reports outside his door made the five-year-old's eyes widen. Instinctively, he dove under his bed at the fourth gunshot. For a while after that, there was silence, but something made the little boy stay right where he was under his bed.

Footsteps sounded outside his room, and the little boy saw a shadow fall across the floor as a figure stood in the doorway of his bedroom. A snort sounded, and whoever it was walked away. Trembling, the little boy closed his eyes and stayed right where he was. He didn't dare to move or call out, so he just curled up into a tight little ball and started sobbing quietly.

He was not sure what had just happened, but the loud noises had frightened him, and the fact that Lee Nha had not come to comfort him scared Jason to his very bones. A horrible, leaden feeling in his gut that he could not quite identify told him that his mother wouldn't be taking him into kindergarten that day.

Or any other day.

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"Why didn't you let me drive, Grissom?" Warrick Brown looked over at the Night Shift supervisor as he carefully maneuvered the Chevy Tahoe into the busy stream of traffic. Gil Grissom's eyes were focused on the road, and he gave no indication that he had heard Warrick.

In the back seat, Sara Sidle spoke up. "'Cause you drive like a crazy person, Warrick." She laughed. Warrick shook his head, and noticed Grissom's lips twitch in that peculiar half-smile of his.

"Did Brass give you the name of the vic?" Sara asked, leaning forward, straining slightly against her seatbelt. Grissom answered in his quiet, measured voice, an expert hand guiding the steering wheel as he pulled off the highway and headed towards one of the more run-down neighborhoods of Vegas.

"No. But he said he'd meet us at the scene." Grissom pulled onto a side-street, and Nick, sitting in back with Sara, sighed.

"Did he give you any details?"

Grissom shrugged. "You know Brass. He was being his usual vague self. He said there was something there I might want to see."

Catherine Willows, the only CSI not present in the already-crowded Chevy, was attending to a minor assault case out in Henderson. It had been a relatively quiet night in Vegas where crime was concerned, so when Brass had informed Grissom of the 419, he had decided to bring along the three remaining CSIs. None of them had objected. If Brass was being vague about the case, it meant it was important - and important cases needed as many people as possible working on them.

The early morning sun greeted Grissom and his team as they exited the vehicle, and the CSI supervisor lifted a hand to shade his eyes as he looked up at the house that was now their crime scene. A strange feeling that something was going to happen soon came over him, and he frowned, not knowing why.

"Gris?" Warrick turned to face him. "You coming?"

Grissom forced a smile. "I'll meet you there."

And the entomologist got his kit and trotted dutifully up to the front door. Little did he know that what was waiting inside would change his life as he knew it...forever.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: We don't own...yet. So, you don't sue yet either. :p

**Chapter 2**

Jim Brass was already standing on the house's tiny porch as the four criminalists approached. His face, not exactly a cheerful-looking one at the best of times, was looking even more serious than usual. He didn't even bother with pleasantries as Grissom, Warrick, Sara and Nick drew up in front of him.

"Vic's a young Chinese woman," Brass said. "Shot four times. Twice in the chest, twice in the head. Somebody wanted her to go down and stay down." He paused, looking at Grissom dolefully. "I found this." He handed Grissom a worn, dog-eared photograph. Grissom looked down at it.

The photograph was of a young woman, presumably the vic because of her race, and a younger, beardless but unmistakably Gil Grissom.

Peering over his shoulder, Sara gave an exclamation and stated the obvious. "Grissom, that's you!"

"You think?" Warrick shot at her, his green eyes widening a little as he stared at the picture.

Sara glared at him. "Well, what's Grissom doing in that picture, Warrick?"

Warrick struggled for a witty comeback as Grissom, oblivious to their banter, stared at the picture as if he'd seen a ghost. Only Nick seemed to notice how rattled his boss was. "Grissom? You okay?"

"Grissom is being photographed in that picture," Warrick managed finally as Grissom finally seemed to come back to himself.

"Yes Nick, I'm fine," he answered Nick's question.

Grissom looked up at Brass. "Where is she? I need to see her." Brass jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the open door. Heedless of his colleagues, Grissom made his way over the threshold. The woman from the picture was lying on the ground some three or four feet away from the front door - it looked as if the lock had been forced, Grissom noticed in the back of his mind - ugly gunshot wounds marring her forehead and chest.

But even with the GSWs, Grissom still recognized her. He would have recognized her if she had been dressed in clown's clothing with a purple wig and make-up. It was Lee Nha. The CSI supervisor stood looking at the corpse of the woman he had once loved, fighting the urge to get down next to her and contaminate the evidence by holding her in his arms.

For yes, even the great Gil Grissom was human, shocking as it was for his three younger colleagues to find out.

It was too much. Grissom stunned his co-workers further by doing a sharp about-face and barreling outside to throw up into the bushes.

His colleagues looked at each other. Sara was the first to leave the group, approaching the gasping Grissom as one might approach a dangerous wild animal. "Grissom," she said softly. "What happened in there?"

"I knew her, Sara," Grissom said, leaning over with his hands on his knees, fighting back the gag reflex. That was the first time he could remember - in over twenty years - that he'd felt like that. He suspected he'd feel the same way if he saw one of his CSIs like that. They were his family.

"How about you take the perimeter with Warrick," Sara said kindly, sensing that she shouldn't push the issue. Grissom was an intensely proud, private person - and that little lapse in the impenetrable facade of his would no doubt leave him not wanting to be faced with a barrage of questions. "Me and Nick can take the inside."

Grissom nodded gratefully, straightening up. "Yeah. Thanks, Sara."

She gave him a thoughtful look before turning and heading back to the house.

The CSI supervisor took a moment to compose himself, before taking a deep breath and nodding to Warrick as they moved to do their jobs.

Inside, Sara was photographing Lee Nha's body, while Nick headed upstairs to examine the bedroom, though from the open account books on the table in the hall, Sara didn't think he would find anything there. Still, Grissom always said to assume nothing. Sara sighed to herself, wondering vaguely what it would be like to work with a guy who didn't think opinions were a contagious disease.

Upstairs, Lee Nha's bedroom was neat, tidy and spotless, compared to the scene downstairs. Nick went over everything with a fine tooth comb, but found nothing - nothing that was relevant to their case, that is. He did find something he thought Grissom might be interested in, though, even though now might not be the best time to show it to him. Lee Nha had kept a small diary, from the day she first left China for Vegas, apparently. Nick didn't read it, both out of respect to the dead victim and also to his boss' privacy.

Nick left that room, and headed next for the room next to it. He was surprised to find kids' toys and books scattered all over this room, and he called down to Brass, "Hey Captain? Did anyone mention Lee Nha had a kid?"

"A kid? No," Brass called back. Footsteps sounded on the stairs as the heavy-footed Captain made his way to where Nick was. "What'd you find?"

"This is a child's room," said Nick, flatly motioning with his hand. He stooped to pick up a yo-yo off the floor. "From the mess, I'd say it belongs to a boy."

Brass raised an eyebrow at Nick. "My daughter's room was only clean at the start of each year after spring cleaning. After that, no one could find anything in that room except her. I'd swear she had a map of all the muck."

The CSI shrugged. Kicked at a toy soccer ball. "Well, I thought girls preferred dolls to sports."

"Nicky, what you know about girls could be written on a piece of paper the size of my thumbnail," said Brass acerbically. He paused. "Hey - did you hear that?"

Nick had heard it, too. It sounded like a child crying. He frowned and looked around the room, his eyes finally falling on the bed pushed up against the wall. It was small enough for someone - say, a kid - to crawl underneath. Nick picked his way gingerly over the mess on the floor and crouched by the bed, switching on his flashlight and pointing it underneath the bed...

To illuminate the small, huddled shape of a little boy.

Brass blinked at Nick's back. "What have you got?"

"A live one," Nick replied. "I think." He reached out with a gloved hand and touched the miniature shoulder. It was unmistakably a boy - the hair was short, and he wore baggy shorts and what looked like a Transformers t-shirt. Matches the room, Nick thought, noting the ancient spaghetti stains on the shirt. "Hey," he said gently. "You wanna come out of there, kiddo? It's safe now."

The kid flinched at Nick's touch, but he raised his head, treating Nick to a pair of terrified blue eyes, and features not unlike the vic's, even though Nick noted the chinese features were softer in him. Meaning, he was only half-chinese.

"Is he hurt?" asked Brass, moving forward to see.

Nick was not a stupid man. Far from it, in fact - stupid people wouldn't get anywhere as a CSI, and Nick hadn't got to this point by being lucky. He was able to put two and two together and make four. In this case, he took the picture of Grissom and the victim, Grissom's reaction to the body, and this little boy with distinctly un-Chinese features and came up with...

"Nick? Is the kid okay?" Brass repeated. Nick shook himself.

"I think so. Pretty freaked out, though." He returned his wandering gaze to the child. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get you out of here."

The little boy looked up at Nick, sniffling, and suddenly threw himself at the startled CSI.

"Whoa, okay," soothed Nick, rubbing the kid's back.

Blue eyes looked into his, Nick noting that he was not much more than five-years old as he asked, "My mom's dead, isn't she?"

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Hah! Two chapters for the price of one review!

Side note: Rhi isn't feeling too good, so Jason: Reloaded will not go on until she's better. Deal with it. (a beat...bursts into tears)

Poor Rhi! (sniffles)

Be kind to her guys, make her happy...review!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: No, we still don't own them. Not yet. Doesn't mean we won't grow up, take over the world, and buy CBS' rights to the show, so there.

Notes: We can only find time to write on the weekends now, and I won't be around next weekend...so, you might have a short wait for the next chappie...but never fear, we will return!

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**Chapter 3**

As the medics looked over the boy - whose name was Jason - Nick padded over to his supervisor, wondering how to break his suspicions to him.

How exactly did you tell someone you thought they had a son that they hadn't known about? Nick really wished there was a guidebook on how to avoid awkward moments.

To top things off, Grissom had noticed his fidgeting and was giving him an odd look.

"Well, uh," Nick shuffled from side to side as though he had to go to the bathroom.

"Nicky, you're a level 3 now...if you need to go, just go, there's no need to ask my permission," said Grissom. "Just don't make the mistake Greg made, go next door."

Groaning inwardly, Nick blurted, "Grissom, we found out Lee Nha had a kid!"

"What?" Grissom blinked, for the second time that day looking surprised. Nick did not have the time or space of mind to be amused at his supervisor's uncharacteristic expression of shock; he was far more concerned with the immediate situation. Grissom continued on, his voice forceful. "Is it dead?"

"_He_ was alive when we found him," Nick said, wondering where the 'it' had come from. Had Grissom thought along the same lines Nick had been thinking, and was now in denial? "The paramedics are looking him over."

"I see," Grissom said, in a voice that indicated he really didn't see at all. "Maybe ...he... saw the killer. I want you to question him as soon as the paramedics are done." Grissom turned away.

"Wait, Gris-" Nick began, willing his brain to come up with a brilliant beyond brilliant idea as to how to ask Grissom this...

"Hey, guys? What's going on?" Sara popped up, causing Nick to jump.

Darn. Nick forced up a smile. "Oh, nothing. Just gonna go interview Lee Nha's son, Jason, that's all."

"Son?" Sara looked confused. "The victim had a son?"

"Apparently." Nick watched Grissom. He had paused briefly, and turned back to look at them, but as soon as he noticed Nick's thoughtful glance he looked away as if stung and walked off. Sara frowned as she observed this.

"What's wrong with Gris?"

After the previous rumours flying around the lab about Sara's relationship with Grissom, Nick wasn't so sure she was the right person to tell. "Why don't you ask him?"

With that, the CSI turned and headed over to Jason.

"Why don't you tell me?" Sara retorted, following after him. "What's the big deal? Why is everyone acting so weird? First Grissom's throwing up everywhere and now..." She halted as her eyes fell on Jason. The boy was sitting in the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around him, his big blue eyes staring off into nothing.

Like Nick, Sara hadn't gotten to CSI 3 by being lucky.

He didn't have time for this. Nick went right over. Instinctively, Jason turned to him as he approached.

"Hey, pal," said Nick, rubbing his back soothingly. "I need to ask you a few questions, okay?"

A nod.

Then again, decided Nick, they could always ask him back at the station while waiting for child services to pick him up.

Glancing to the side as Jason clung to him, Nick's eyes met Grissom's blue ones. A funny feeling ran through the CSI, of compassion and sympathy, as he realized that his supervisor wasn't looking at Nick, but at Jason.

And he couldn't take his eyes off him.

"Grissom? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," said Warrick, tapping the elder CSI on the shoulder. Grissom turned reluctantly to face him.

"Yes, Warrick, I'm fine. Did you find anything?" Grissom said forcefully, snapping into Supervisor Mode.

"Actually, yeah," said Warrick, holding up a small plastic evidence bag. Inside there was a small, slightly squished cigarette butt. "Found it in the bushes."

"Grissom." The supervisor turned, to see Sara, who was wearing her 'I-am-so-pissed-with-you-Gil-Grissom' look. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"I'm busy, Sara. Later." Grissom gave her a stern look and turned back to Warrick. "Get that to the lab. See if there's any DNA on it."

"You got it," said Warrick, shrugging at Sara who was glaring at him. He moved off, his lanky frame disappearing into the night.

Watching from the sidelines, Jason turned to Nick. "Who are they?" the five-year-old wanted to know.

"Those are the people who are gonna help find out who did this to your Mom," Nick said gently. He decided not to elaborate for now.

Jason didn't seem to accept that answer, his brow creased in thought as he opened his mouth to ask another question, but the arrival of Jim Brass cut him off.

"Child Services doesn't want to take him!" exploded the captain.

Grissom turned sharply. "What?"

"They claim they're too backed up, but they'll send a guy over sometime next Monday," said Brass, lowering his voice as he glanced at Jason, who was cowering at the sudden angry outburst. Apparently, he had yet to get over the shock that came with losing his mother.

"So, what do we do with him?" asked Sara, irritably.

"We'll work something out," Grissom said. "Meanwhile, we process this scene. The body should have been taken away by now, so let's get in there. I want to know who did this." For a moment, a look of anger passed through Grissom's normally impassive eyes, but only for a moment. It was gone, replaced by the familiar calm mask.

But it was just that. A mask.

If his team were telepathic, Grissom knew what they would read from his mind - all the pain and sorrow at Lee Nha's death, the confusion over her son, the near-desperate need to know if Jason was or wasn't his son... and the fear that he was.

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. No. He couldn't go there. If Jason was his son...

Turning sharply, Grissom went back to the scene, really not wanting to dwell on that last thought.

Finishing up on the scene seemed to take a lifetime, but then they were done, the body was being shipped to the morgue, and Grissom was able to heave a sigh of relief and prepare to head for the lab. Outside, he was about to get behind the driver's seat when Nick came out with Jason and made him stop.

"Hey, Gris." Nick gave him a strange look, one that even Gill couldn't interpret yet. "Look, Jason doesn't have anywhere to crash, so you can tell Jim I'll be taking care of him until Child Services comes for him."

Swallowing, wondering if Nick was trying to tell him something, Gil nodded. "Okay."

The last thing Gil saw before they disappeared into the back seat were Jason's blue eyes, seeming to accuse him of something. Memories of Lee Nha filled his mind, and muttering something to Warrick about a headache, Grissom did the one thing Sara feared him doing - and turned the wheel over to the rather wild driver known as Warrick Brown.

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Shout-outs to the three terrific people who reviewed:

eacdudette - Updated, and hope you don't mind waiting for the next one.

SpectralLady - Oh, I'm not offended. I know the last one sucked. That's whyI hooked up with Rhi.

StuntChini - This is the next chapter, the next one will be up as soon as Rhi and I find time to write together.

Okay, people! One million dollars in leprechaun gold will be given out to the first ten people who press the shiny purple button below and type something into the space that appears! Go!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Do i own CSI? (shifty eyes) Not yet. Who wants to know?

Notes: I'm posting this chapter bearing rather sad news...Rhi has withdrawn herself from the project due to her schedule being full. So, I'll be writing solo from this moment on...

I'm looking for anyone who's interested in joint-writing this with me? Contact me on YIM at christianfreak9466, or e-mail me (my e-mail's in my profile) with the words fanfiction dot net in the subject. Help me keep this fic alive, people - I can't do it alone.

Right. That's quite enough of burdening you all with my troubles. If you're interested in helping me, contact me, if not...on with the fic!

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**Chapter 4**

Sara clamped her hands over her ears at the loud screeching of brakes as Warrick pulled into the last available parking space at the LVPD, smirking as he did so.

"You can open your eyes now," he told Sara. "We're here – oh ye of little faith."

Sara huffed. "If you wouldn't drive like a maniac all the time, maybe I'd trust you to be behind the wheel!" she snapped, doing a very un-Saralike thing and sticking her tongue out at him.

"Has the car stopped, Uncle Nick? Can I open my eyes now?"

The small voice from the back seat made Sara smile, but mostly because it had proved her point.

"Yeah, Jase, we're here." Nick got out the back, followed closely by the little boy from the crime scene. The blue eyes were wide as he took in his new surroundings.

"What do you think?" Warrick asked, bending down to Jason's eye level.

"It's okay," he replied shyly. "What do you guys do in there?"

"You'll see." Nick took the little hand and led the way inside, Warrick and Sara giving each other little glares as they trudged after them.

And for once, Grissom brought up the rear, shuffling his way after the little party. His blue eyes, so like Jason's, were thoughtful as he followed his younger coworkers into the building.

This was definitely going to be a very different day…

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Beep! Whirr…sploosh!

Jason watched, fascinated, as the coffee maker churned out a small paper cup of joe. Nick removed the cup, taking a sip and making a face.

"Ugh," he said, tossing the contents down the drain. "We need to find Greg's stash again, Cath," he said to the motherly blonde who was sitting nearby.

"I know," she said. "The coffee tastes like Grissom's tarantula."

Grissom entered just then, and fixed Catherine with a stare. "How would you know what my tarantula tastes like?" he asked suspiciously, just before Jason asked delightedly,

"You have a tarantula?"

The supervisor looked at Jason as though he had never seen a little boy before, then he answered carefully, "Well, a tarantula has me."

Jason seemed awed, but before he could ask more, Brass appeared, and Nick said, "Hey, sport, we got some questions for you first, okay? Grissom can show you his spider later."

The little boy looked disappointed, but he trudged obediently after Nick, and Grissom watched as they left the break room.

Catherine gave him about five minutes of peace before she said, "Gil, about your connection with your victim…"

Turning with a sigh, Grissom asked, "Who told you?"

"Even you should know by now that news travels fast around here," said Catherine, stirring her coffee in a fruitless attempt at getting it to taste better.

The entomologist was silent for a long moment, and Catherine waited patiently, knowing that he'd break sooner or later.

Finally, it happened – Gil started to talk.

"I met her at a conference in China around…what, five, six years ago," he began slowly, as though still not sure he wanted to share this just yet. "She was working at the hotel as a maid, and I met her when I left some notes in the conference room. She was about to toss them into the bin, and I just managed to stop her."

He stopped, startled, as Catherine made a dash for the sink to spit out the coffee, but she waved for him to continue.

"Go on," she prompted, wiping her mouth with a tissue that had miraculously appeared in her hand.

Hesitating, Grissom nonetheless obeyed.

"I didn't believe in love at first sight back then," he said, remembering. "I don't think I do now. But something made me ask her out for dinner, and later…"

Catherine wished she could make a camera appear in her hand the way she could a tissue. How often did you see Gil Grissom blushing?

"You had sex with her?" she prompted.

"Yes." Grissom gritted his teeth and went on. "I knew it couldn't last, but over the course of the conference, we kept on seeing each other. And when it was time to leave, I left. And that was it. I certainly never expected to see her again – and if I did, I never thought it would be at a crime scene."

The slender blonde finally gave up on the rest of the coffee in her cup, ditching it in the trash basket and moving over to her supervisor. Calmly, she asked, "And the kid?"

He pretended he didn't know what she was talking about. "What about the kid?"

Catherine got right in his face. "THE kid, Grissom. That adorable five-year-old boy, Lee Nha's son. The one with Chinese features and blue eyes that look suspiciously like yours. THAT is the kid I'm talking about. And don't you dare tell me you have no idea what I'm talking about."

Knowing when he was beaten was a key part of staying alive where Catherine Willows was concerned.

"If you're asking if Jason is my son…I don't know, Catherine," Grissom said quietly. "He could be, I suppose."

By now the CSI was wondering what it was about men that made them so dense at times. Throwing her hands in the air, she asked, "Well, don't you want to find out? Do a paternity test or something! For crying out loud, Gil!"

She poked him in the chest with a finger. "If he is your son, he needs you. And you need to be there for him."

Her pager went off just then, and she sighed. "New evidence just came in on my case…anyway…" she pointed at Gil. "Find out if he's your son, Gil. You'll regret it someday if you let him walk away like this..."

Vega poked his head in. "Cath? You coming?"

Her head jerked up. "Yes." Giving Grissom one last glare, she followed the officer out. Leaving the CSI supervisor alone to think.

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Why was everyone staring at him? Jason wriggled in his seat and tried to shift his chair closer to Nick's. Brass had a stare like iron, but he was obviously trying to soften it for Jason's benefit.

Jason was too afraid to tell him that he wasn't succeeding.

"So, Jason," Brass began, leaning across the table to give him a tight-lipped smile. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened yesterday night. When was the last time you saw your mother?"

An image flashed in his head, and Jason replied, "When she tucked me in to bed and kissed me goodnight."

_- "Goodnight, sweetie," Lee Nha murmured, tucking the blanket around her son. "Sweet dreams, and I'll see you in the morning." - _

Brass noted that down, writing with large handwriting. Jason was impressed, he could barely write his name. His teacher said he had to learn how to hold the pencil properly. The little boy tried to watch how Brass did it, but was distracted by the next question.

"Did anything unusual happen before that? Anything strange or weird? Did anyone act like they would want to hurt your mom? Start from the beginning," encouraged Brass.

Jason thought hard. Then he shrugged. "She took me to kindergarten, she picked me up, I stayed with her at work until 5.30pm, and then we went home."

As an afterthought, he added, "Well, her boss yelled at me for standing near the candy shelves in the store, but he's always yelling at me. He doesn't like me."

"Her boss? Where did your mom work, Jase?" asked Nick, gently.

"She worked at Mr Lanyon's grocery store," replied Jason. "Mr Lanyon doesn't like me. He's always yelling at me, but he likes my mom, so he pretends to be nice to me when she's around. He gave her flowers once, but she was allergic to them, so she gave them back."

"Does this charmer have a first name?" asked the captain, taking down notes so fast it looked like the paper would burst into flames.

"Theodore," answered Jason, playing with the mug of water he'd been given. "He makes Mom call him Ted. He makes me call him Mr Lanyon." He made a face. It wasn't hard to figure out that Jason liked "Ted" about as much as Ted liked him.

"Right." Brass finished his notes, and looked at Nick, signaling quietly that the five-year-old had nothing more to tell them right now. Getting to his feet, he said, "Thanks, Jase. Look, if we have any more questions, we'll ask you later, okay?"

Jason nodded. He looked at Nick. "Can we go see Mr Grissom's tarantula now?" he asked.

"Just a sec." Nick took a cotton swab out of his kit. "Open up, kiddo," he said.

Eyeing the swab curiously, Jason opened his mouth, signifying an already deep trust in the man who had found him under his bed. Gratified, Nick a swab, and placed it in the requisite evidence bag.

"Okay. Now we can go see if Grissom will let us near his spider." Exchanging one final glance with Brass, Nick led the little boy out of the room.

Behind the two-way mirror, Gil Grissom silently released the breath he hadn't even known he was holding. Getting his cellphone out of his pocket, he hit speed dial.

"Greg? Yeah, it's Grissom. Listen,Nick's coming your way with the DNA of our victim's son andI need a favor…"

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Shout-outs (and one million buckaroos in leprechaun gold)go to:

SpectralLady - It took a little longer than expected to get this chappie up, didn't it? I'm sorry. But it's here now! Hope you enjoyed it.

Jammer -Yes, Cath was in this chapter. How was her act? I wrote her as she was before she started becoming super-btch single-mom in s5.

eac-dudette - Yes, you get one million dollars in leprechaun gold. All yours. (shoves gold at eac-dudette) And review for this chapter!

csifan - Yes, it was niceof him, wasn't it? He's such a sweetie on the show, I decided it was exactly the sort of thing he would do. And wow, 2 reviews? I'm honored! You get a nick plushie! (Hands Nick plushie over)

Charmed-angel4 - yes, you get one million dollars in leprechaun gold...I really hope that isn't the sole reason that you reviewed...

Jenna - Glad you think so! Here's a Grissom plushie just for you! (hands her a Grissom plushie)

cadrina - Thanks, and now you got more...how about you give me a review? ;)

Flash Foreword - Thanks, and hope you'll continue to bear with me and this fic!

Well, i still have some leprechaun gold to give out. And I'm still looking for a joint-writer. Contact me if interested, okay? In the meantime, I shall get to work on chapter 5.

Thanks, everyone!

RK9.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own Jason and Mr Lanyon...even though I don't want Mr Lanyon...anyone want him?

Notes: Everyone, please welcome my new partner in writing, witchbsword! Witch and I cowrote this chapter, and we're trying to synchronize our watches for the next chappie...wish us luck.

(pauses) I don't hear any clapping!

(the room breaks into applause)

Much better. See, witch, I told you they'd love you...

Okay, enough clapping. On with the fic!

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Chapter 5

Grissom barricaded himself into his office after giving Greg his DNA sample to be tested with Jason's. He wanted time to think while he was waiting for the results and for Doc Robbins to finish the autopsy. He knew Catherine was right- if Jason was indeed his son, he needed to be there for him. At the same time, he felt himself being pulled in. How many times has he told the others to never get emotionally involved in a case? He was already contaminating a piece of evidence – as though he needed to prove it to someone, he pulled the photo Brass had given him out of his pocket.

It was taken in front of a rose garden at a local park. Grissom had his arms around Lee Nha and she was leaning into him; the two smiling at the camera.

The day couldn't have been more beautiful and perfect. Grissom remembered the day clearly- it was the one before the date on the plane ticket from Beijing to Las Vegas. The two wanted to spend the last remaining hours together.

"I'll be back again one day," he whispered in her ear at the gate before he boarded. And returned he did, only to find out she disappeared. He never found out about any pregnancy, though, which wasn't surprising, actually, considering how Chinese people considered it a great shame when their children married or slept with foreigners. It made sense now to see why she was here in America.

Questions ran through his mind. _"Did she try looking for him? If she knew Jason was his son, why didn't she contact him? What has she been doing all these years?"_ For some odd reason he remembered the lyrics to an old ABBA song.

_"Mamma mia, does it show again _

_My My, just how much I've missed you? _

_Yes, I've been broken-hearted_

_Blue since the day we parted_

_Why, why did I ever let you go?_

_Mamma mia, now I really know_

_My my, I should not have let you go."_

The interrogation came back to him. It was obvious that Mr. Lanyon tried to get together with Lee Nha and that there was bad blood between him and Jason. He hoped Mr. Lanyon didn't hurt either of them, or he would not be responsible for his actions.

A knock at his door interrupted his musings. "Come in- door's unlocked!" Grissom called.

The door opened and Nick walked in holding Jason's hand. "Hey Grissom, can Jason see your tarantula now?"

Looking in the tiny boy's eyes, Grissom could almost see a future entomologist. _'Why not?'_ he thought. _'What harm could it do?'_

Actually, he didn't want to answer that question just yet.

"Of course," he said to the waiting Nick. "Come on in."

The three walked over to the shelf where the cage was, and Grissom started gently explaining about the arachnid, while Jason listened, wide-eyed, not missing a single word. "His name is Fred. He's from the family…"

Seeing how enthralled the two were in the spider, Nick smiled a charming Texan smile to himself, and quietly slipped out to leave the two alone.

Neither of them saw him go.

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"Okay, Mr. Lanyon, how much does a Kit-Kat and some answers cost?"

"Uh, well, the Kit-Kats are 65 cents, but answers cost more... How do you know my name?" Mr. Lanyon stammered.

After Doc Robbins confirmed that the TOD was the same time as when the neighbors heard the shots, Brass and Sara traveled over to the grocery where Lee Nha had worked.

Theodore Lanyon was a middle-aged, balding man with greasy hair the color of a mouse's fur. He had crooked yellow teeth and a ring on all ten of his fingers, and a body odor that reminded one of a dead cat that had been slowly rotting away inside an oven. Sara couldn't for the life of her imagine why anyone would want to come within ten feet of him, let alone work for him day after day.

Then she remembered that Lee Nha had a son, not a lot of job options, and had probably needed the money.

Brass flashed his badge.

"I'm Detective Brass with the LVPD and this is Sara Sidle from the Crime Lab. We know your name because one of your employees was found murdered this morning."

"Oh, man…" Lanyon hung his head. "It's Lee Nha, isn't it? She's the only one who hasn't shown up and she's never late."

"I'm afraid it is her, Mr. Lanyon. What did she do for you?"

"She is- was- my accountant, a real whiz with numbers. She worked the counters as a store clerk too. That girl brought in money just standing there and smiling, I always said."

"I bet she was dedicated and loyal, too, right Mr. Lanyon?" Sara sneered.

"Yes, she was. What are you implying, Miss Sidle?" replied Mr. Lanyon, cocking his head to one side.

"Where were you this morning around 5 am?" questioned Brass.

"Home, asleep. What-"

"Can anyone confirm that?" asked Sara, cutting him off.

"No, I live alone. Am I a suspect? If this is an interrogation I'm calling my lawyer."

"Relax, Mr. Lanyon. We're talking to everyone who knew her. I suggest you cooperate. You do want to help find out who killed her, right?"

Mr. Lanyon simply glared. Brass got the feeling that the interrogation was over.

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Back at the lab, hunched over computers, were Warrick and Nick. One sorted through fingerprints to search through AFIS while Nick ran the bullets recovered from the body through NIBIN. They were so involved in the work that they jumped when Greg bounded into the room demanding to know where Grissom was.

"Greg," Nick sighed, "Have you heard of these two inventions called a beeper and a cell phone? Try reaching him with those two objects."

"I have, but he won't answer. He either has trouble hearing them or they're off," whined Greg.

"Or he just doesn't want to talk to you," muttered Warrick under his breath.

"What was that Warrick? Sorry dude, but I can't hear you when you mumble. Got something to say to my face?"

Nick, who had heard Warrick and was trying hard to not laugh out loud, said, "Greg, man, obviously Grissom is not the only one with hearing problems. Anyway, just look for him. Can't you see we're busy?"

Defeated, Greg shook his head and walked off.

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Half an hour later, the DNA lab technician still had not found his boss and was starting to feel the irritating feeling commonly known as frustration.

He'd gone over every square inch of the lab by now, except the women's bathroom, and he was pretty certain Grissom wasn't in there.

Then again, this was Grissom they were talking about…

After being yelled at by two female lab techs and Sara, Greg backed out of the women's bathroom and headed back to the DNA lab.

"Where have you been, Greg?" a very familiar voice asked. "I've been looking for you."

Gil Grissom was standing next to the GCMS, leaning on the table and looking much too calm to the frazzled Greg. He refrained from making a witty comment, though, both because he was too tired to think one up, and because Jason was peering uncertainly at Greg from behind Grissom's legs.

"Got your results back," he told Grissom.

The supervisor raised an eyebrow, and Greg said quickly, "I mean, from the cigarette butt Warrick found at the scene. The DNA is female, but it's not Lee Nha's."

"My mom didn't smoke," said Jason, his voice muffled as he hid his face in Grissom's jacket. "She didn't like people who did. She said it's a dirty habit, like when I bite my nails."

Turning, Grissom gently but firmly pried the little boy from his person, before sending Greg a look for help.

"Hey, Jason? You wanna come see Nick doing stuff with fingerprints?" asked Greg, feeling certain that he wouldn't be able to satisfactorily explain AFIS and NIBIN to a five-year-old, and especially not this five-year-old.

Though he had only been in the lab a few hours, Jason was starting to scare Greg, who felt certain he knew the boy's parentage even without the results of the paternity test. He was curious about everything around him, and not shy to ask questions. He loved Grissom's spider, and had asked more than twenty questions about the fetal pig Grissom had in a jar in his office.

Now, his eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly, before letting out a big yawn.

"I think a nap first would be a good idea, Greg," noted Grissom.

"Yeah," Greg agreed. It wasn't until Grissom gave him a pointed look that he realized that Grissom wanted him to put Jason to bed.

"Come on, Jase," he offered. "There's a really comfortable chofa in the break room."

"A what?"

"A chofa. It's not a couch, and it's not a sofa." Greg picked up the little boy. "Let's go."

"But I want to see Nick!" protested Jason, as Grissom quietly picked up Greg's results to start running them through CODIS, sneaking out while Jason was distracted.

Greg had no idea how he did it, but he managed to get Jason to sleep at last, with the promise that Nick would check up on him when he found the time.

And then, the dreaded results came in, and Greg sighed as he took the printout to show Grissom.

He wasn't quite sure how Grissom would respond to the results, but just in case, he put Catherine on speed-dial and kept his hand on his phone, hoping all the while that he wouldn't need it.

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Shout-outs go to:

cadrina - Yeah, well, a spider isn't really a bug...and we don't know for sure that Grissom is his father, now do we?

bubblecat - heh, thanks. Glad to hear I wrote him right.

Daisyangel - Nick has five sisters and a brother and goodness knows how many nieces and nephews. I figured he'd be good with kids.

Charmed-angel4 - You and your leprechaun gold...one day you'll get caught, and I won't... (rolls eyes and mutters) ;)

csifan - Sorry. I've been busy, and getting busier...And i thank goodness that witchbsword was willing to cowrite with me.

eac-dudette - Good to hear it! Hope you loved this chapter too!

Tracy - Whoa...this fic's got some ways to go. Hold on to your horses, girl! We're far from finished just yet!

SpectralLady - He likes spiders. Spiders aren't bugs, they're arachnids. But hey, Griss likes spiders too... ;)

And with that, I will now leave you.

But before we go, everyone, give witch another clap! She did great work on this chapter.

(room explodes with applause once more)

Good. I'll just leave witch to take the bows, then. Carry on.

(grins and sneaks out)

Gee, I hope they won't forget to stop clapping and review...


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: We don't own anything. Yet. Emphasis on the 'yet'.

Notes: Everyone, thank witch for the speedy update. I was perfectly willing to let another week go without updating, but she kept talking me into writing, so...

Hehheh, only joking, witch.

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**Chapter 6**

Greg Sanders shuffled his feet and tried to take a breath of the tension-filled air in Grissom's office. The fetal pig seemed to laugh at his plight as the supervisor sat behind his desk reading and rereading through the printout. His fingers sweated as he fingered the phone in his pocket, wanting nothing more than to just call for Catherine and bail - only he couldn't do that. Right now, it felt like Grissom would snap at him if he so much as breathed in his direction.

Grissom read the results, pursed his lips, said a mere "Okay, thanks" and sat down, motioning that Greg could go. The infamous "Grissom mask" was set firmly in place as the lab tech scuttled out the door at record speed.

Inside, Grissom felt… rather bittersweet. He felt relieved that he was not Jason's father and that he wouldn't have the responsibility of raising him. Deep down inside, however, Grissom knew he wanted to be a father. It was only a matter of time before he could admit that to himself. His mother would jump for joy at the news of being a grandmother. The circumstances would be rather surprising to her, but she would finally have a grandson to spoil!

Now, Gil had only one thing to figure out – who had killed Lee Nha? And why?

Okay, two things.

Minutes later, Grissom left his office. Thirst and a need for caffeine made him head for the break room, even though he knew Jason was sleeping there and he might bump into him.

The coffee pot was full, but when Grissom swirled the liquid inside, it made a sluggish squelching noise, and he immediately set the pot back down, thinking he had even heard it growl.

"Over here, Griss." The entomologist turned at Nick's soft call. "I made a new pot."

The Texan was seated by the "chofa", keeping an eye on the sleeping boy. He handed Gil a warm cup of coffee, and turned back to Jason. Almost casually, he said, "He woke up a while ago. Had nightmares."

Grissom tried not to choke on his coffee. For once, he didn't succeed.

"Yeah?" he managed, when the spluttering died down.

"Yeah. So I clocked out. Thought I'd take him home with me now." Nick turned to look at him. "And while I'm there, I thought I'd go through the diary I found at the scene. It's Lee Nha's."

His boss was silent for a moment, before he whispered, sotto voce, "It _was_ Lee Nha's… take good care of it, Nick."

The CSI 3 nodded. "I will, Griss. Trust me."

In his normal voice, Grissom nodded and sipped his coffee. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you, Nicky."

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Bags filled with Cap'n Crunch, Mac N' Cheese, and more kid food filled Nick's car and he and Jason went to Nick's apartment. Nick suggested they stop at the house/crime scene to pick up some clothes and supplies, but Jason had almost began crying at the thought. Nick mentally berated himself in the head for not thinking of that earlier, and so they stopped at a Walmart Supercenter to buy clothes and food. He didn't think frozen food and stale pizza was a good diet for a kid. Catherine had agreed.

Upon arriving at Nick's place, they put the food away and Nick gave a quick five-cent tour. Jason loved everything, asking as many questions about everything as his little mouth could form, but he really got excited when he spotted the set of encyclopedias Nick had received for his sixteenth birthday present instead of the Porsche 911 he'd wanted.

"Wow!" Jason ran to pick out one of the large volumes, but stopped when the small print and big words stared up at him. He frowned, and complained, "I can't read this yet!"

Seeing how disappointed the boy was, Nick deduced correctly that he was still tired. Gently, he offered, "I'll read you a bit, then we'll put you to bed, okay, little man?"

He was relieved when he got an eager nod. "Okay."

Nick brought Jason to his guestroom, the room his nieces and nephews used when they came to visit their Uncle Nick. He read the first page of the encyclopedia to the little boy, stopping to explain as much as he could whenever Jason threw a question at him. Finally, Jason became sleepy again and Nick helped him to bed.

With that done, he got Lee Nha's diary out of his backpack, and opened it to the first writing-covered page. Thinking about the woman who had given birth to and raised the incredible young boy currently sleeping in his guestroom, Nick couldn't help but wonder.

"Who are you, Lee Nha?" he muttered. "Who are you really?"

Somehow, he hoped the answer lay in the diary he now held in his hands.

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Back at the crime lab, Warrick, Grissom, Sara, and Brass gathered together in one of the conference rooms to discuss the evidence. Catherine tagged along as well, anxious to learn more about the case. Since her own case had been wrapped up and tied with a bow for the DA, Grissom allowed it.

Warrick began. "Both NIBIN and AFIS came up with hits. We got a bullet used in an assassination attempt five years ago, and I even found the .22 said bullet came from – it belonged to a Mr Maynard from Rhode Island, he claims his gun was stolen back in 91, but its bullets have been showing up in random unsolved murders across the country."

He tossed a folder onto the table, and continued, "AFIS tossed out a fingerprint from that unsolved murder I mentioned…we never found the assassin it belonged to, but someone stored the print on the computer just in case."

Sara put in her two cents: "Lee Nha worked as an accountant for a Mr. Lanyon down at Lanyon's Groceries. Said she was hard working and a whiz with the books. He claims to be home alone during the murder. Mr. Lanyon does seem to have a thing for our victim, however, Lee Nha kept away from him. "

Grissom piped up: "Greg got the DNA results from the cigarette. It's saliva from a woman, but not Lee Nha's DNA. The boy did say she never smoked, so that checks out."

"Unless the cigarette was thoughtlessly tossed by a passerby, we have to assume our assassin is a woman," said Brass.

"Remember, Jim, we don't deal with assumption here," Grissom chided Brass lightly while the others rolled their eyes.

"Anyway," Jim continued, ignoring Grissom, "The neighbors know squat since they were asleep. They only said that Lee Nha and Jason Chang were nice quiet people that didn't make trouble. The two pretty much kept to themselves, so we don't know if they had any problems. Forensics accounting looked over the books and they can't see anything out of the ordinary."

"So, what we have is bullets attached to random murders nation wide- no gun- fingerprints that match to an unknown killer, DNA which may or may not be the killer, no evidence that she could be stealing which could have given us a motive, and a horny boss whose pick-up lines were rejected. Not to mention we have a little orphan who may or may not have seen anything." Catherine, having said this in one breath, now needed an oxygen tank.

"Take a breather, Miss Glass-Half-Empty," Warrick joked with a huge grin on his face.

"I opt to have another look at the crime scene- maybe something new will come up that we didn't see before," Sara suggested.

"Good point, Sara. However, we'll do it tomorrow. It's the end of shift and we'll see things even better when we're refreshed. Get some sleep, people." Grissom rose from his seat.

"Oh," he added as an afterthought, "Nick's looking through Lee Nha's diary, he said he'd call if he found anything."

The others all looked at him.

"Lee Nha had a diary?" asked Catherine. She looked around at the others. "Who's up for a drive to Nick's?"

Grissom didn't know whether he was amused or not as everyone there raised their hands.

He took out his keys, and sighed. "This is off the clock, mind," he warned.

"Yeah, but you'll still make the department pay for your petrol," grinned Brass.

"Nick's going to have a fit," chuckled Sara, grinning, as they all filed out of the conference room together.

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Cramped. Dark. Silence. The sound of the loud gunshots had long dissipated, and yet, something still lingered in the air.

_Footsteps. A soft clicking noise that grew closer and closer…the door to his room creaked open, and he hunkered down even more, as though by making himself as small as possible would help him not be found. _

_A shadow fell across the floor, blocking the light from the hallway. A snort sounded, and Jason trembled violently, whimpering._

_Then someone called his name, and he gave a cry, releasing the scream that had been fighting its way out of him._

"Jason!"

The little boy woke to see Nick hovering over him, and he lurched at the CSI like a drowning man would a life preserver, sobbing his little heart out.

All Nick could do was hold him, gently soothing him and letting his presence chase away Jason's fears.

Outside, the morning sun was bringing in the dawn of a new day for the city of Las Vegas.

Not for Lee Nha, though. And not for Jason.

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Shout - outs:

gelf - Witch's ffdotnet profile is here: http / www . fanfiction . net / witchbsword.Take away the spaces. For CSI, look up the author kegel - she writes stories which witch proofreads and she hasn't been getting many reviews. Drop a line and make her happy, eh?

SpectralLady - Surprise! Hehehe...

Charmed-angel4 - You want a spider? Ugh. Go find an exotic pet shop and buy one with your leprechaun gold...and you didn't hear that from me.

love2readfanfic - Well, I updated...hope you enjoyed it!

Jenna - No doubt? There's always doubt...keep in mind though, that a son doesn't have to be biological...

bubblecat - Well, Nick did find him under the bed... and yeah, I think most five-year-old boys think tarantulas are cool...

Right! Drop a review, people! Chapter 7 coming soon! We hope!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sue me. Oh wait - you can't, can you?

Notes: Well, after a long spell of writer's block, studying, and being away for holidays, I finally completed chapter 7. Here it is, folks. And don't forget to thank witch for her constant encouragement and help with getting over the writer's block.

Oh, and I will no longer be replying to your reviews...sorry. It turns out that ffdotnet has a rule against it. They say this isn;t a messageboard, so I have decided to stop it...though I do send a million hugs and kisses to all my loyal reviewers! I love you all!

And to those who are waiting for me to update the other fics I'm working on...you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. I have serious writer's block for those, and precious little time to write as well...serves me right for signing up for all those camps during the holidays, I suppose. And also, my computer went down to a virus attack, and I lost everything I had for those fics... bad, I know. I need to rewrite, and try to remember where I was going with each fic. So please, I apologize, and I need you to bear with me, people.

Now, on with the fic!

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**Chapter 7**

_Prickling. Stinging. Pain. _

That basically described the current condition of Nick's arm. He had been able to calm Jason down and helped him fall asleep- pinning the aforementioned arm underneath. After some nudging and pulling, Nick rescued his arm and flexed it to get the circulation moving again.

Dawn slowly but surely shifted into day and the sun began to shine brightly through the window. Nick lowered the blinds. After checking that Jason was peacefully sleeping, he left the room, slowly closing the door behind him. Jason was obviously in no shape to attend school. The nightmares were obviously getting worse. He hoped Child Services had some good "kid shrinks" on hand.

With that thought, Nick paused. Suddenly, he realized that he wasn't so keen on giving Jason up to Child Services anymore. The boy has become a huge part of his life in a matter of days, maybe even hours.

Nick headed back to the living room to resume reading the diary. He had just sat down on his comfy couch when the doorbell rang out.

"_Oh hell, what now?"_ he muttered out loud.

Upon approaching the door, Nick took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened the door, and began his memorized litany: "No, I don't need a new Bible, vacuum, or set of encyclopedias. I already subscribe to _National Geographic_, _Newsweek_, and the _Las Vegas Sun_. I'm not interested in joining any political parties and I donate regularly to several fundraisers. If you're still here, please come back at night when I start my shift. Thank you."

He was about to close the door when he heard Warrick's bellowing voice: "Well, good morning, Mr. Sunshine! Do you need a cup of Folger's aromatic coffee to remind you to be nice to people?"

"What 'n hell…" Nick uttered as he opened his eyes to the sight of Grissom, Warrick, Catherine, Brass, and Sara crowding the front stoop. Warrick pushed his way through the door, teasing Nick.

"Jeez, Nick, didn't your mother teach you any manners when you had guests? You gonna invite us in?"

"Yeah, my mother taught me manners- for _invited_ guests. Seeing as y'all are my friends, you're welcome inside anytime for a beer, but could you at least tell me _why_ y'all are here?" Nick's Texan accent grew thicker as fatigue began grabbing him.

Sara, always to the point, said, "We're here because you have evidence."

"Lee Nha's diary?" Nick guessed.

"Correct, cowboy. What's in it?" Catherine asked.

"Not too much, from what I've read so far. She's kept to herself and focuses on work and her kid. No friends, except for a few friendly hours spent with the neighbor. She never dated anyone, but did have some run-ins with her boss, Mr. Lanyon. Nothing too serious," Nick replied.

"What kind of run-ins?" Grissom questioned.

"For example, Mr. Lanyon gave her flowers, which she refused with the excuse that she was allergic to the pollen. He harassed her for a week until she threatened to quit. She was looking for a better accounting job- mostly in banks- somewhere where she could earn more money to support Jason. He was her life."

"I can relate to that," Catherine muttered quietly.

"It matches with what we have. Mr. Lanyon confessed to hitting on her, but not ordering a hit on her," said Brass.

"Hold up, I've been out of the loop. What all do you guys have?" asked Nick.

The sun continued to rise as the group proceeded to fill in Nick about the evidence they collected.

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_(Earlier that day)_

A dirty, red Chevy truck rolled into a deserted parking lot of an Outback. The restaurant was closed for repairs, but the construction crew had yet to arrive to begin work for the day, sweating and hammering under the relentless desert sun.

The driver, Mr. Lanyon, parked in a secluded corner and sat back to wait. This was supposed to be the last meeting between them, but she complicated matters by not doing things right. He was pissed because the cops already showed up. It wasn't supposed to go down like it did. Only Jason was supposed to die, Lee Nha ended up dead instead. And no one was supposed to find out until much later. The assassin screwed up and Lanyon refused to pay for mistakes.

Lanyon could hear the muffled noise of a crowded city beginning to wake up. He thought about why he ordered the assassin to kill the brat. Lee Nha rejected him- all because of that brat _Jason_. No one rejects Thomas Lanyon.

Lanyon's fist clenched tighter around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white, while his face turned red. It lasted about ten minutes before he realized what he was doing, and released the wheel, his anger vented – for now.

The muffled noise crescendoed and rescinded again as the passenger door opened and closed again.

"You screwed up."

"Shut up. I'm the expert, not you."

"_Expert_? We had an agreement and part of it was that you would be quiet. No one was supposed to know until too late, but now the whole neighborhood heard you."

"Hey- that's your problem, not mine. Just fork over the dough and we'll never see each other."

"Hell no. You were never supposed to touch the woman! Only the kid was supposed to go knocking on the Pearly Gates, but you killed the woman instead! I'm not paying for your screw-ups."

"Whatever, man. Just give me the money! I need that cash!"

"Tough," sneered Lanyon. "You want the cash, then make sure that kid keeps his appointment with St Peter."

A loud curse answered him from the back seat, then the passenger disappeared as quickly as she came.

Lanyon started up his truck again and merged onto early morning traffic.

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Allie Redman paced the confines of her small, rather dingy apartment. The wallpaper was peeling off slowly, and the carpet felt like walking on mold.

Damn that man Lanyon. Allie forcibly stopped pacing and scowled heavily, twisting up her usually pretty face into a dark expression that would send a Rottweiler cowering.

She needed the money he'd promised her. She had gone after the kid, but the woman had seen her face, and so she'd had to die. It wasn't her fault that she'd forgotten to put on a silencer. It definitely wasn't her fault that the neighbors had woken up, and so she'd run before she'd been able to get the kid.

Hell, now how was she supposed to pay her rent?

Unconsciously, Allie started pacing again.

Even if she could go after the kid, she didn't know where he was. The police had taken him into their custody, and Allie wasn't sure she felt suicidal enough to go into the police station asking after him. Her face was too well known in police circles for her to do anything of the sort.

On the other hand, if she got arrested, she wouldn't have to worry about the rent, now would she?

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"I can't believe this!"

CRASH!

Greg Sanders jumped off his lab chair and let out a few unrepeatable curses, grabbing his foot with both hands and hopping around on the other foot like the Easter bunny gone wrong.

"Sanders, what have you been smoking?" Hodges yelled from his lab. "Cut down on the noise!"

Greg muttered something under his breath. From the gesture he made in the direction of the Trace lab, it was a safe assumption that he wasn't wishing Hodges the best of health. Picking up the beaker he had dropped on his foot, Greg limped over to the realm of his good friend Archie Johnson.

The audio/visual lab was in darkness, but the soft strains of Good Charlotte told Greg that Archie was in. The Asian lab tech was leaning back in his seat, chilling out to "I Just Wanna Live" and humming along.

Man, Greg really loved this guy. Except when he got to help out on cases and Greg wasn't invited.

"What's up, man?" Archie asked, spotting Greg before he could speak.

"I'm in trouble if I don't find Grissom fast," the DNA tech announced dramatically. "Where'd he go, Arch?"

"Don't call me that," Archie answered snappishly. "And I think Grissom and the others are having a pow-wow at Nick's. What's the problem that has you so riled up?"

Checking that no one was within hearing distance, Greg leaned in and whispered something into Archie's ear. The audio/visual technician listened, and slowly, a grin spread over his face.

"You'd better head over to Nick's, man," was all he said to Greg's almost-desperate expression. "Give Grissom my love."

Greg sighed. "And there I was hoping you'd help me."

Archie grinned. "With the amount of trouble you're currently in? I like my job, man."

So it was that Greg Sanders found himself standing outside Nick's front door, ringing the doorbell and wondering why it had only started raining _after_ he'd gotten out of the car. Shivering a little, he was relieved when a rather grumpy Nick opened the door and invited him in.

Nick's living room was warm and dry, and the graveyard shift was lounged around the coffee table in the middle of the room, each with their own comfortable spot. Warrick and Catherine were sharing the sofa, and Sara's head was pillowed against Warrick's leg. Grissom occupied Nick's large brown recliner, and Nick himself returned to his favorite cushiony seat after telling Greg to make himself comfortable.

Greg didn't. He glanced nervously at where Brass was sipping coffee at the kitchen table across the room, and turned back to Grissom.

"Can I uh, talk to you?" he asked, trying not to panic in front of all the seasoned CSIs. "You know, in private?"

Grissom looked around at everyone, focused on Greg, then rose and said, "Nick, I hope you don't mind us using your bedroom."

"Sure," Nick shrugged. "Just don't touch anything," he warned Greg, as the tech shuffled after Grissom into the room.

The supervisor closed the door behind them and turned to Greg, crossing his arms lightly over his chest.

"What is it, Greg?" he asked, raising one eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

Greg swallowed.

"Well," he began, "Maybe you'd better sit down…"

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(throws out Grissom plushies as incentive for people to review...)

RK9.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing as usual, and neither does witch.

Here's chapter 8 for all the impatient and patient people! Enjoy, folks!

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**Chapter 8**

The constant shuffling and fidgeting of Greg Sanders had pretty much unnerved Grissom from the moment the wet young man had appeared in the house. His obvious nervousness had further worried the older man, who had by now figured out that something was wrong.

Well, he hadn't gotten to his position by being an unintelligent man.

"Greg," he said patiently, "Just tell me what the problem is."

The lab tech shuffled his feet again, and muttered something unintelligible.

"Louder, Greg," said Gil again, though with less patience.

Greg swallowed, and blurted, "I made a mistake with the DNA results!"

Grissom was momentarily confused, but soon figured Greg was talking about the results of the paternity test.

"You mean…?" Actually, the supervisor wasn't sure what Greg meant.

"I mean, I mixed up the DNA samples that you gave me. I made a mistake in processing them." Greg looked miserable by now – a rare sight to see indeed. "Which ultimately means – Lee Nha's killer is not Jason's father, and….I've been running your DNA through CODIS since yesterday."

Grissom sat down very suddenly, missed the bed and hit the floor.

_Oh, shit. _

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Greg's inner voice screamed as he helped Grissom sit properly on the bed. _Oh, damn, please don't fire me! I'm just the simple messenger! _

Everyone in the living room heard the loud "thump" and looked at each other. "Hey, I don't mean to bother you two, but is everything ok? What was that noise? I told you to stay off my stuff, Greggo!" Nick yelled from the living room.

Greg yelled back, "Nothing man, we're cool! I didn't touch anything!", although his mind was screaming something else. He turned back to Grissom. "Are you okay? Are you hurt or bleeding?" Greg tried examining Grissom to see if he was hurt, but Grissom pushed him away. "Look, Grissom, I'm so sorry. You know I usually don't make mistakes and I promise it won't happen-"

Cutting off Greg's apologies, Grissom's strangely calm voice asked, "Greg- I'm the father, aren't I?"

Now Greg's voice seemed strangely calm, too. "Yes, sir."

Grissom sighed, and sat quietly for a minute, which only made Greg fidget and mumble even more. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said, "Well, I'm sure the rest of the team would like to know the news as well. I will also have to call Child Services." As Grissom said that, his mind raced as Greg's did a few seconds ago. _How on Earth am I going to take care of a kid I just met?_ Something in that last statement however, gave Grissom courage. He knew he could trust the team with the news and knew that they would help him through any predicament the same way he would help any of them. With that, Grissom stood up and walked with Greg back into the living room.

Warrick saw the looks on their faces and asked, "What's up, chief? Greg, what did you do that's making you so jumpy?"

Grissom answered before Greg could begin protesting. "Greg made a mistake with two samples of DNA, but it's all right as he corrected everything before things became messy. It could happen in any lab, so I'm not mad, but the new results bring us some very important issues. As many of you have suspected, Jason's father is not Lee Nha's killer. We need to find out a name for the female DNA found at the crime scene. As for the rumor mill saying that I'm Jason's father, well, let's just say that for once… rumors can be true."

Grissom finished his speech and allowed the news to sink in. Greg breathed a sigh of relief in the news that his job was safe, but mentally berated himself and promised to never do it again. He did, however, allow himself a little gleeful smile when it hit him that he was the first to know that Jason was Grissom's son. _Small_ _victories_, he thought.

For Nick, it was now his turn to feel bittersweet. Yes, he was happy that Jason now had a father - and what a better man to be a father than Grissom - but it also meant that Jason couldn't stay with Nick. He knew he would have to keep his mouth shut about that last part. He could imagine Grissom's lecture about staying objective, listening to evidence versus listening to the heart, etc.

Collectively, the team wondered why their boss wasn't mad with Greg. He usually didn't have much tolerance for mistakes, especially when dealing with DNA. But, the news of an unknown son would shock anyone, even the emotionally-absent Grissom. He did let Warrick drive when he saw Lee Nha dead, after all. Individually, however, their thoughts raced on different tracks. Catherine simply smirked as her suspicions were proved correct. Women's intuition is very powerful. Warrick thought of who won and who lost the bet in the "Jason and Grissom Pool", and Sara just sat dumbfounded, her lower jaw slightly hanging. Only Brass broke the thickening silence. "Are you going to give him chemistry sets for his birthday like you did with Lindsey?"

They all jumped when a small voice asked, "Who's Lindsey?"

A rather rumpled-haired Jason stood in the doorway nearby, blinking sleepily at the group.

Catherine grinned and motioned for Jason to come to her. She knew that she was the best-qualified person in the room to break that news to the boy. "Lindsey's my daughter, Jason. She's nine. You want to see a picture?"

Like most parents, she had tons of little pictures of her pretty, blue-eyed daughter in her purse.

While Jason obediently admired the picture of Lindsey, Catherine looked at her colleagues' faces. Most were still recovering from the shock. They had to tell Jason what was going to happen to him - no, scratch that - _Grissom_ had to talk to Jason. It would have to wait, however, considering Child Services still has no knowledge about Jason's parentage.

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Warrick and Nick decided to take Jason to a nearby park to get some fresh air. The others needed to discuss the case.

Brass offered one idea: "We might be able to convince a judge to order the women in the neighborhood to give a cheek swab. We might find a match to the cigarette."

Sara piped up. "You mean a DNA dragnet? I've heard of those. It might work, considering not too many women live there."

"What, is it a gay community?" muttered Catherine.

Since they were all pretty tired, it was the only idea any of them could think of at that time. They all agreed on it as a plan and headed off. Brass left to grab a judge while Grissom called the day shift advisor to give the assignment. Catherine went home to wake up Lindsey and Sara headed to the park to update Nick and Warrick. After that, they all went home to crash, even little Jason, who should have slept long enough as it was. But losing your mother can have strange effects on you, especially if you're a child, and Jason fell asleep again with no trouble at all.

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The rookie tech sighed and for the zillionth time that day, swore to make night shift pay dearly for what they'd requested him to do.

"A _what_ swab?" The woman looked ready to smite him where he stood.

The night shift needed to match DNA from a stupid cigarette to one of the women who lived in the same area as their vic and a judge actually signed the paper allowing them to do it. The day shift supervisor gave the assignment to the rookie "for experience". _Yeah right. The others ran away with lame excuses and I was left in the dust. As Stewie would say, "Damn it all to hell!"_ He'd barely started when one indignant, pissed-off lady called her lawyer, who, in turn, called the media. The vultures were attacking everything while the tech trudged from door to door asking for samples. In a way, he didn't blame them. The dragnet was voluntary, but it was almost a Catch-22 situation. If they complied, they did lose their right to privacy since their sample would always be on file. It didn't matter if their DNA matched with the DNA on the cigarette or not. On the other hand, if they didn't agree, it made them look guilty. All the women felt forced to give a sample. The tech wondered how the dragnet would help when DNA would be swamped and behind on their work for weeks.

It still didn't change the fact that a certain Miss… he checked the sheet… _Redman_… wanted to kill him. He calmly replied, "A cheek swab. To compare DNA found in a murder scene."

She was rather pretty, his type, and had he met her under different circumstances, he would've asked for her number. He sighed again as he remembered his friends' warnings about how he shouldn't work for the crime lab due to all the psychos one might meet.

Annie Redman glowered and growled, "You have a snowball's chance in hell in getting a DNA sample from me, asshole. Go invade someone else's privacy." That said, she slammed the door and the slighted tech could hear the deadbolt lock sliding into place.

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After she told off the tech, Allie knew she had to act quickly if she wanted to kill the brat. She grabbed her gun and climbed out and down the fire escape to escape the vultures at the front of the building. Newly orphaned kids have to go through Child Services and luckily she had a friend who worked there and owed her a favor.

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Jackie Alderman hit enter on her keyboard again and said, "Allie, I'm sorry, but there is no record here of Jason Chang Xiao Siong. He's not in the system. Listen, just wait a while. We've been swamped and cops call all the time for new cases. Maybe he's one of them and he'll show up when we get around to him."

Allie began pacing the small space in the cramped office. She bolted in the office with fake tears, making up some cockamamie story about how her best friend died and left instructions that Allie should take care of her kid since the husband was always drunk and couldn't take care of the kid. Jackie bought the story, but it was useless if the kid wasn't in the system. He really was becoming a pain in the ass. How many orphaned kids are there in Las Vegas anyway? How many were of Chinese heritage with blue eyes and were on an assassin's list of people to kill?

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Jason sat on Grissom's couch and Grissom began to tell his tale, hoping the kid would understand. "I have to tell you something, Jase," he began, wondering how he could phrase this so the little boy would understand.

"What?" Jason looked up at him trustingly, the blue eyes he had inherited from Gil wide in his little face.

Gil felt a surge of…something, deep inside, and nearly chickened out.

"Jason," he forced himself to say, "What do you know about your father?"

Jason looked up at him instantly. Grissom had apparently captured his attention.

"Nothing much," he replied. "Mom didn't like talking about him. She only told me that he was an American, and that she loved him very much."

Grissom swallowed hard at that. Lee Nha had loved him? Well, he had loved her too…if he'd been able to find her that time he returned to China, things might be different.

Before his thoughts could take him any further down that road, Grissom looked his son squarely in the eye and said, "Well, Jason – I'm your father."

Jason looked at him wide-eyed, prompting Gil to start explaining. It took little over an hour to highlight his story – his and Lee Nha's – and explain to Jason that he would be living with Grissom now…as a family.

"What about Nick?" Jason asked instantly. "I like Nick."

Nick. Well, of course he would like Nick. Most kids did, he was good with them. He'd had plenty of nephews and nieces to practice on.

"Well…Nick has his own home to live in," he replied, his tone gentle. "But you can visit him whenever you want."

The little boy thought that over, then nodded slowly. Getting to his feet, he padded over to the rather surprised entomologist and gave him a hug.

"I love you, Dad," he mumbled against Grissom's chest.

Tentatively, Grissom hugged the little boy back, letting Jason snuggle into him – but when he opened his mouth, he found that he couldn't repeat Jason's easy words to him…at least, not yet.

After all, they both had miles to go before they slept…and miles to go before they slept.

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Heh, couldn't resist the Robert Frost bit at the end...forgive me. I'd just gotten back from English Literature tuition when I typed that. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed that...and witch and i will now work on Chapter 9. Wish us luck, everyone!

RK9.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. You starting to see a pattern here?

Notes: Sorry for the long time it took to update, but I have been busy working on my school mag, and studying for my tests. Also, I confess...I had a serious attack of writer's block and a nasty computer virus - and as it happened, so did witch. We do humbly apologize, and I hope this chapter will keep you guys amused...for now. I think this fic will be ending soon...that is, if i can find time to write andupload it.

More important notes: Witch has gone to college and is no longer able to help me with this fic..so I have decided to finish it alone. There should only be a few chapters left to do, so all I need is inspiration and time. I'd like to thank witch for all her help and all the fun we had working on this fic. This chapter is dedicated to her...and to all you patient readers out there! Specially Jess from the GE Yahoo! group, who never fails to remind me to keep updating! Cheers! ;)

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**Chapter 9**

The problem with working the night shift in any profession was the rest of the world. The average citizen woke up every morning, worked through the day and slept at night. Night shift people had opposite schedules. Grissom had worked all night and received Lee Nha's case late in the shift. He then stayed up all day when he went to Nick's house and back home when he explained to Jason that he was his father. Jason was lucky, he'd slept all day, but now Grissom was exhausted. Sure, he'd pulled several shifts in a row before- his whole team had at one point or another, but at those times only physical exhaustion slowed him down. In this case, emotional exhaustion made him want to fall asleep. He had a few hours before the sun set again and the night shift went back to work, but for Jason's sake there could be no rest for the weary graveyard shift supervisor.

Grissom called a few old friends and made Jason's case a top priority at Child Services. Jason didn't need to be adopted by a foster family, but papers still needed to be signed and Gil wanted to get his son settled in at his home as soon as possible.

His son. Boy, that sounded good – if he did admit it himself.

As they walked through the front entrance of the Child Services building, a towering red head stormed out and bumped into Grissom. She was rather petite, but angry and absorbed in her thoughts, a bad combination for someone who didn't realize their own strength. She muttered a snappy apology and was about to march away when she focused on the little boy. _'Hello, what do we have here?' _she mused as she grinned to herself. Grissom and Jason were rooted to the spot, staring at the strange woman as she smiled strangely at Jason.

Here was the kid from the photo; the one she was supposed to off. Allie snapped back to the real world and saw the strange looks they were giving her. "Cute kid. What's his name?" she queried innocently.

"Jason. I'm his father, Gil Grissom." Though he was used to the idea of being a father by now, the words still sounded funny to Grissom. Allie looked from Jason to Gil, her mind stunned. She kept looking back and forth between the two of them, trying to find some resemblance, but they shared nothing except the same intelligent blue eyes…which she noted out loud.

"Wow, I never would have guessed except for the eyes." She bowed her head and pretended to blush. She stammered, "Well, I hav… I mean… er…I need to go!" She smiled broadly and walked off, her mind now racing. _'Lanyon never mentioned a father! Damnit, this is getting too deep. Am I supposed to off the father as well?'_

Grissom stared back at her as she walked off, oddly amused and intrigued. A grin tugged at his mouth. It wasn't until he felt something tugging at his shirt that he snapped back to the present and saw Jason waiting patiently for him. He shook his head and followed him inside.

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As Allie turned the corner she stopped at a graffiti-decorated pay phone and inserted two quarters. She dialed a number, paused and then spoke up. "We have to meet. No, NOW. Cool Beans Café on Westfall Avenue." The coins clinked as they dropped into the box when she hung up.

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Meanwhile, Grissom found himself sitting in a room with a stern-faced Child Services officer who looked at him as though he were one of his bugs. Jason was waiting outside patiently as Gil signed several papers under the woman's watchful eye, flipping through a well-worn book that seemed to be about spiders – although he didn't look like he was enjoying the book much.

For his part, Gil did his best to hurry, not wanting to keep Jason waiting. Once they were done here, Jason and he had an appointment with a friend of his at her clinic. He signed papers as fast as the woman would let him, risking her glares – he'd gotten worse from the sheriff and the mayor, and she didn't have authority over him.

Or did she?

"We'll be sending someone over in a week's time to check on the boy's welfare, Mr Grissom," Ms I-Cannot-Smile informed him. "I'm afraid it's procedure – we have to make sure that you'll do everything and anything you can to care correctly for this already traumatized child. I do hope that will be all right."

Forcing up a rather pained smile, Grissom nodded. "Certainly."

He had barely even known he had a son for what, a couple days, and they wanted to send someone to assess his parenting skills within a week? Gil fought to stay calm as he rose, shook hands with the woman, and exited the room to collect his son, who dropped any and all pretence of reading the book to run to Gil and take his hand.

"Can we go home now?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed, leading the little boy outside.

Once outside, father and son stood together for a moment, enjoying the heat of the sun as it shone down on them. Then, before the eye of heaven could start burning into them, Grissom took his son's hand once more and led him to the car.

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"Gil Grissom! This is a pleasant surprise!"

Tall, willowy and cheerful, Dr Teresa Wingman was truly a sight for Gil's sore eyes. Teresa was a certified psychologist, and she specialized in treating traumatized children – something Grissom was truly thankful for as he hugged his old friend. The doctor had treated him for a while when he was in his teens and had been struggling to cope with certain issues, and yet, Teresa still didn't look a day over forty, and Grissom told her so.

"Pfft," she responded, shaking off the compliment with a good-natured smile. "Flattery, from you, Gil? I'm touched…but I'd like to get down to business, if you don't mind? I'm afraid I have other patients waiting."

"Now," she went on, "I don't somehow think you're here for me to examine _your_ head…so, what is it?"

Smiling, Grissom turned and beckoned encouragingly. Tentatively, Jason shuffled out from his hiding place behind the couch, stepping up to the supervisor and attaching himself barnacle-style to Gil's leg. His eyes peered uncertainly up at Teresa, and she responded exactly as Gil had known she would.

"Well, hello there," she exclaimed softly, bending down to Jason's eye level. "And what's your name?"

The little boy backed away behind Gil's leg, and answered, "Jason."

Sidestepping, Gil waited for Teresa's next move.

"Jason? That's a nice name – a good, strong name. My name's Teresa. Say, did you know that Jason means 'healer'? I have a nephew who named his son Jason Alexander…say, how about we go make ourselves comfortable in my office? I do believe I have milk and cookies in there…"

The doctor's cheerful, easygoing manner swept the little boy right off his feet, and Gil fought the urge to chuckle as he followed behind the pair, Teresa holding Jason's hand as she brought him into her office. It wasn't long before Jason was happily seated in a chair munching on some Oreo's, a glass of warm milk in front of him on Teresa's desk. Grissom himself gladly accepted the mug of coffee that his old friend handed to him, and he selected a seat next to his son.

"These are Shrek Oreo's!" Jason exclaimed happily as he reached for another cookie. "They're limited stock, I thought there weren't any more in the supermarket!"

Shrek Oreo's? Grissom reached for one of his own, but he quickly stopped as Jason twisted off the top half of his cookie, revealing that the cream inside was lime green.

Teresa, meanwhile, was quickly covering up the part on the Oreo packet that had the expiry date printed on it with her hand.

"So," she said quickly, "What brings you and Jason here, Gil?"

Gil grinned to himself as he proceeded to fill her in, summarizing the happenings of the past 48 hours – had it even been 48 hours yet?

"I thought I'd bring Jason in to talk to you," he finished.

Teresa was nodding, gently stopping Jason from taking anymore cookies.

"Well," she said, "I have nothing against helping out an old friend, Gil, but you neglected to make an appointment and I have several in line right now. So…how about you bring this little man in on…" she checked her calendar, "..Monday?" I can see him at 6.30pm – gives you a little time to rest after work."

Relieved and grateful, Grissom nodded, rising to shake Teresa's hand and collect his cookie-stained son.

"Thanks," he said. "I think I will."

"Right." Teresa hugged him, then Jason, tactfully using a tissue to wipe the chocolate and milk mustache away.

Once in the car, Jason looked sleepily at his father. "Griss…Dad? Are we going home now?"

Swallowing hard, Grissom took a moment to reply. The use of the word "dad" had thrown him off a little, though Jason had used it once before already.

And why shouldn't he? Grissom _was_ his dad, after all. He had the right to say it.

"Not just yet," Grissom managed to say at last. "I've got one more stop to make…but you can sleep in the car on the way, okay?"

Darn it all, he was not going to cry…

"Okay." Jason yawned, his mouth opening wide. "Wake me."

"I will," answered Gil, but Jason was already asleep.

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"What did you want to meet me for? It's too dangerous – we shouldn't be seen together!"

Lanyon's hiss of displeasure slid smoothly off the sides of the booth Allie had chosen in the café. The assassin, however, wasn't perturbed at all.

"I want out of this deal," she announced.

Lanyon stared at Allie as though she had claimed that Spiderman could defeat Batman. "You what?"

"You heard me." Taking out a cigarette, Allie lit up and started smoking. "This is getting too deep for me. First you say off the woman, then you tell me you never wanted her dead, you wanted the kid dead…now I learn that the kid's father is in the picture, should I off him too?"

A few patrons glanced over as Allie raised her voice, though they clearly interpreted the scene in the booth as a lovers' quarrel before turning away.

"Keep your voice down," hissed Lanyon.

Allie took another drag on her cigarette, before stumping it out in the ash tray and saying, "I don't care, Lanyon. I can't afford to pay my rent, and soon I'll have no money for anything else either. If I turn myself in, I go to jail – free room and board, and I'll be safe from you…mainly because you'll be in a men's prison, and I'll be in a women's institution."

"You -" With a snarl, Lanyon lunged across the table at Allie, who leapt aside quickly and brought her arm down on Lanyon's back, sending him crashing into the table.

"Don't mess with a professional assassin next time," Allie growled, before picking up her handbag and leaving the café. Wide-eyed, Lanyon got up, painfully holding his chest.

The bitch was going to ruin everything he had ever worked for. She was going to tell the cops _everything_. He'd go to jail – jail!

But Theodore Lanyon didn't want to go to jail. He had too much to live for – like seeing that little brat dead and six feet under.

And if Allie Redman wouldn't do what Theodore had paid her to do, then – he would just have to do it himself.

And after that, if they came and took him to jail, it wouldn't matter any more.

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Much as I'd love to do shout-outs, I can't - apparently it's against ff dot net's rules, so...I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed, and encourage those who didn't to press the pretty little purple button...thank you all, and goodnight!

RK9.


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